Will Not Fade
by laloga
Summary: "Ask me now, I'll give you the reasons my love will not fade, through the fire and rain." A series of romantic vignettes between a clone trooper and a bounty hunter turned "transportation specialist." Mostly fluff. OCs and M/M pairing. Cover art by the lovely and talented gloryblaz!
1. Chapter 1

Hello! This is the first installment of a vignette collection I'm sporadically working on. Updates will be at random intervals, but I wanted to share this first part with y'all today. :) Still not sure where/when all these will fit into my timeline (s). If it's important to the viggie, I'll let you know. Mostly this is just an excuse for fluff.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars and am making no cash, credits, ingots, or bling of any kind from the writing &amp; posting of this. All OCs are mine, however, and if you'd like to use them, please see the note on my profile. Thanks! Title and summary quote are from "Fire &amp; Rain," by Matt Kearney, on _City of Black and White._

One last thing: As stated in the summary, this series centers on a romantic relationship between two adult males. If that bothers you, I recommend looking elsewhere for your entertainment.

Otherwise, happy reading! :)

* * *

1.

Even half-asleep, Traxis recognized that he had never heard this song before. The slowly building melody tugged on the edges of his consciousness, gently urging him to open his eyes and wake. He complied after a moment's resistance, because the bunk was soft and he was comfortable, but even that pleasure would pale when compared to the male who would be beside him.

But when his eyes finally did open, Traxis realized he was alone in the cabin of the _Stark Raven_; there was only a faint impression in the mattress left by his Twi'lek lover. He would have frowned, but for the music.

It trickled from the direction of the galley, a sure sign that Ares was there, too, so Trax swung his legs out of the bunk and made his way out of the cabin. He didn't bother to throw on any clothes over his bare _shebs_; modesty was never one of his strong suits. Besides, he didn't think Ares would mind. He sure as kriff hadn't minded last night.

When Traxis palmed the galley door open, the music's volume increased exponentially, pouring out of the small space that it had already filled to bursting. If the lilting melody had not been so pleasant, Traxis might have been annoyed. But Ares had, among other things, excellent taste, and the clone had never found much to complain about with his companion's musical choices.

He had nothing to complain about, actually.

Ares' back was to the galley door as he stood before one of the galley counters. Like most light freighters of its class, the _Stark Raven _had been designed to make use maximum use of minimal space; appliances, like the conservator and sanitizer, were tucked neatly within the bulkhead, and a narrow rectangular table at the center of the room served as both dining and prep table. It was here the coral-skinned Twi'lek stood.

Ares was deceptively slender, but Trax knew the strength within his lithe frame. Knew it pretty kriffing well, in fact, but always enjoyed a good bout of rediscovery. Unlike the clone, Ares wore a faded cotton shirt, a pair of briefs that clung to his muscular buttocks, and – to Trax's amusement – a pair of black socks.

Judging from the motion of his arms and his swaying _lekku, _the Twi'lek was working the caf-press that he was so fardling fond of; he claimed the thing was the only proper way to drink caf. Trax had never used the device, but had often watched Ares push against the caf-press's lid to extract the drink from the grounds. Privately, he thought it was a lot of effort to expend when one could simply press a button on the percolator, but he couldn't deny the final result was always worth the wait. He inhaled deeply, savoring the rich scent.

Heedless of his audience, Ares began to sing, picking up exactly when the vocals of the song came in. His Ryl accent added a pleasing undercurrent to the music, and he swayed his hips as he sang and reached for one of two mugs he had on hand.

Just when Trax opened his mouth to announce himself, Ares turned, mug in his grasp and a crooked smile on his face, one that widened when he realized Traxis was in his vat suit. Ares stepped to Trax and pressed the mug in his hand, though he lingered with a kiss against the side of Trax's mouth.

He tilted his head so that his _lekku _fell to one side and spoke in Traxis' ear so the words would be discernible through the music. "Good morning."

As he spoke, his lips feathered Trax's ear and Traxis forgot all about the caf. Heat coursed through his veins at even the mild contact, and his body responded accordingly, more so when Ares' grin widened. The music was too kriffing loud; Trax didn't want to shout to be heard, so he contented himself with resting his free hand on Ares' waist and pulling him in for a proper kiss. _Good morning._

Yes, it most definitely was.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

"Move your lazy _shebs_, you fekking _di'kut_!"

Ares winced and glanced up from the lounge table, where he'd been tinkering with one of the energy conversion cells from the hyperdrive. Traxis was seated at the sofa's edge, elbows resting on his bent knees, every line of his body fixed on the vidscreen before him. The only sound were the shouts and whistles emanating from the screen, on which some bolo-ball match or another was being played.

Evidently it was an important one.

Trax threw up his hands. "What the ever-loving fek was that? You _had _that effing goal!" He twisted around to face Ares, jabbing his forefinger at the offending player. "Do you believe this _osik_?"

"It's..." Ares searched for an appropriately outraged word. "Egregious," he said at last, shaking his head to emphasize the point. "A travesty of epic proportions."

He tried, but failed to keep the smile from his lips. Trax rolled his eyes and turned back to the screen, where the two teams were getting ready for another play. Or perhaps they'd just made one. It was difficult for Ares to tell. Several dozen sentinents running around in various, brightly colored jerseys all looked the same to him.

With Traxis otherwise occupied Ares got a little lost in his tinkering, and for a few minutes, the _Raven's_ lounge was relatively quiet. The hyperdrive had been causing Ares no shortage of headaches lately, but he was reluctant to shell out the cash for a new one. The EC cells were finicky, but with the right care, they could last forever.

Just as he was setting the ion-field calibration, Traxis let out a whoop that shook the bulkhead and jumped straight up, both arms lifted in triumph while the green-clad players on the vidscreen embraced in a massive group hug.

"Suck it, Eltair!" Trax trumpeted, practically dancing in place. "Ah, I hope to _haran _Stonewall saw that play. The _di'kut's_ been gloating about their last win all _week."_

"I take it your team did something, ah, admirable?"

Traxis grinned. It was Ares' favorite smile on him: wide and without reservation. "Yeah, you could say that. Dremm just scored. If they win this game, they'll go on to the finals," he added, his chest puffing up in sheer pride. "They have a real shot at the Galactic Cup."

Well, that was all gibberish to Ares, but he nodded anyway. "How much more of the game is there?"

The joy fled Trax's face, replaced with apprehension as he frowned back at the screen. "About six minutes. Kriff, I hope they don't fek around. They're tied; if the game goes into free-kicks, Eltair will probably win. Dremm's got to keep this momentum if they're going to score again."

The energy conversion cell could wait. Ares set down his tools and crossed the room to the sofa, where Trax had dropped to sit. He plopped beside the clone and faced the screen, where the players were scrambling after a small, white ball. "Dremm is in green?"

"Yeah. Eltair's in that obnoxious purple. See the goalkeeper there?" Trax pointed to one of the figures, and Ares nodded. "He's the best in the galaxy, hands down. Dremm's lucky to have him."

_I know the feeling. _Ares nodded again and leaned closer to the screen. It all looked like a hopeless muddle, but at least now he knew which color to keep his eyes on. Seemingly without thinking, Traxis slung his arm around Ares' shoulders and leaned his head close to Ares' left _lek_. He'd not shaved since this morning, and the faint scrape of stubble against the sensitive _lek _sent a thrill through Ares' entire body.

"That referee's been acting like a real _shabuir, _though," Trax continued, indicating an Ithorian in black who was gamely running after the players. "He's throwing out warnings left and kriffing right, and most of them are for Dremm..."

The hand on Ares' shoulders tightened as Traxis trailed off, his body going tense. On the screen, the players were darting across the field, the pack of them hurtling toward what Ares imagined to be a rather nervous goalkeeper. Everything was a blur of green and purple, with the occasional flash of white from the ball.

"Alright, _chakaare, _this is your last effing chance," Trax muttered. "Come the kriff on."

Ares squinted in an effort to get a sense of what was happening. The green-clad players were angling to score a goal, and judging by the countdown, this would likely be the last opportunity.

The goalkeeper crouch low in anticipation; Traxis leaned forward as well, mirroring the stance. "Come on..."

Trax's body was tense beside him, eyes fixed on the screen while the hand around Ares' shoulder twined in the fabric of his shirt like he was hanging on for dear life. The players swarmed around the ball, just steps from the goal, and Trax's free hand, resting on his knee, tightened into a fist. Ares covered it with his own and Trax immediately laced their fingers together.

One of the green-clad players broke free, dove for the ball – feet-first – and slammed it into the goal. The crowd cheered.

Or so Ares assumed. The next thing he knew, he'd been pulled to his feet by his exuberant companion as Trax whooped again, then swept Ares into a bruising kiss that made his head spin. For the duration he couldn't hear anything but his own heart pounding against his ribs as Traxis kissed the kriffing daylights out of him. When they parted, Trax's grin was broad and his eyes crinkled, and he laughed in sheer delight.

"I take it Dremm won?" Ares managed to gasp.

"Yeah, they effing won," Traxis said, and embraced the Twi'lek again in a fierce hug. "I fekking _knew _they could. I didn't want to hope, but I _knew _they had it in 'em._" _When he pulled back, he gave Ares an anxious look. "The next game is a week from today. I don't know how I'll survive until then."

"I'll help you." Ares skimmed a hand through the glossy black fringe of Trax's hair, before pulling him in for another kiss. "I think I rather like this 'bolo-ball' of yours, anyway."

Somehow, Traxis' smile widened.

* * *

A/N: This viggie is dedicated to **impoeia**, who inspired me to pay attention to the World Cup this time around. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Warmest, if belated, lifeday wishes to my wonderful beta, **impoeia**. This one's for you. :)

* * *

3.

Traxis wrinkled his nose as he surveyed the piles of junk that loomed on all sides. The kriffing air stank of old fuel and engine oil, and he regretted leaving his kit back on the _Stark Raven. _"What are you looking for, again?"

Something clattered to his right as Ares untangled a length of durasteel cable from one of the many mountains of garbage. "Alluvial dampers," the Twi'lek said as he wrapped the cable vertically around his forearm. "I've been needing to replace the _Raven's _for some time."

"Can't you buy those?"

Cable secure, Ares placed it in the anti-grav sled they'd rented from the salvage yard. "You can buy anything, provided you have the creds. Which, sadly, I do not."

Traxis peered into the sled. Ares had already amassed quite a collection of...stuff, most of which he couldn't make head or _shebs _of. "But you had to pay a fee to come dig around through this fekking place."

"A small fee, considering the money to be saved. I intend to get my creds' worth and fill this sled to the brim." Ares swiped his jacket sleeve over his damp forehead and cast Trax an apologetic smile. "Ah, but I know this wasn't how you hoped the evening would go. I promise to be finished soon, and then we can get dinner. But invitations to Kuat Salvage Yards are few and far between, and I'd rather not miss this chance."

"Plus you need those...allowable damp-things."

Ares chuckled. "Only if I want to keep flying."

Nodding, Traxis looked around again. Kriffing hell, this place was a mess. _Crest would be right at home. _"What do the damper-things look like? Maybe if we split up, we'll have a better shot at finding them." _And at getting out of this effing junkyard sooner. _

The only reply was a swift curse in Huttese, followed by a horrific screech of metal on metal. Always expecting an ambush, Trax whirled, reaching for the blaster at his hip, but it was only Ares, balanced on two wobbling, massive hunks of ship in an effort to pull some other effing hunk of ship free from the pile of _osik. _The _di'kut _was going to break his fardling neck pulling stunts like that, all to save a few creds. Trax sighed and went to help.

Except he didn't count on the whatever-it-was being effing _covered _in sticky, black fluid that stank of plasma. Gritting his teeth, Trax yanked with all he was worth in an effort to free the hunk of garbage. After a few moments it slipped loose, causing him and Ares to stumble back into the dust.

Fek, his hands were covered in this _osik, _and Trax scowled as he wiped them on his fatigues. Meanwhile, Ares held a knot of tangled wires and sensor nodes as if it were a trophy.

At Traxis' dark look, he held up the mess and grinned. "Can you believe it?"

"What the frag is that thing?"

"A treson cluster." Ares examined the wires' ends lovingly before placing the mess into the sled. "Very rare. _Very _valuable." He turned his smile onto Traxis. "I've never found anything like that on my own. I should bring you on all my salvage trips."

_No fekking way. _

Even so, it was kind of impossible to be annoyed when Ares looked at him like _that_, so Traxis tried to sound nonchalant, despite his own stupid, _shabla _grin. "As long as I can get you naked, after. Now, what do those damper-things look like, again?"

* * *

A few minutes later, Traxis wandered alone through stacks of old starship parts. Some were no taller than himself, composed of hundreds – thousands? – of bits and pieces; others were massive hunks of hulls and bulkheads that reached into the domed atmosphere of the floating salvage yard. He stopped before a promising pile of cylinders – Ares had shown him pics of what they were searching for – and knelt to get a better look at the ones on the outer edges. Garbage, all of it, at least in his eyes. If he'd come across any of it on his own, he'd have tossed it into the nearest incinerator.

But Ares loved this _osik_ for some reason, so Traxis resolved to find the alluvial damp-things if it took him all kriffing day. Traxis' hands were already coated in grime; a little more wouldn't hurt. He began to root through the pile, mentally checking each object against the image in his brain.

_Too small. Too round. Too pointy. Too...sparkly? _Something gleamed in the corner of his eye. Beneath a few layers of metallic plates was some kind of pale blue crystal, mounted into a carbon casing. Of course, this thing was filthy as well, but it looked intriguing and wasn't too large, so Trax shoved it in his pocket and continued his search.

For hours. Well, it fekking _felt _like hours, though his chrono told him it was more like one hour; the yard would be closing soon. He was covered in grime and grease, and every breath was filled with the stink of this _shabla _place, such that Traxis figured he'd be smelling fuel and oil for kriffing days.

And it was all for nothing. Trax had failed in his task; not one kriffing damper could be found in this karking place. With a heavy heart, he made his way back to where he and Ares had agreed to meet. At first glance, his Twi'lek companion had fared no better. Worse, actually, given that every piece of normally coral-colored skin was mottled with something black and sticky, and he smelled like the wrong end of a ronto.

"What'd the fek did you get into?" Traxis covered his mouth and nose as he approached Ares, who stood beside a now-full grav sled, examining his findings. _Shab. _His hand stank too, but at this point it was the lesser of two evils.

Ares' brow furrowed as he studied what looked like a power-pack. "One of the fuel cylinders I found was home to a family of skrats. They reacted rather, ah, severely to my intrusion."

Luckily, Trax was excellent at suppressing his gag-reflex. "Do me a favor and keep your hands to yourself until you've showered, okay?"

Nodding, Ares looked at Traxis' empty hands and his _lekku _seemed to droop. "I take it you did not find any dampers?"

"I'm sorry," Traxis said, and meant it. "You didn't, either?"

"Our luck ran out early, I suppose." Ares sighed and set the salvaged power-pack into the cart. "Ah, well. That treson cluster will fetch a nice price once it's cleaned up. I can put the money toward some used alluvial dampers." He gave Traxis an amused look. "You are ready to leave, yes?"

"Ready, and then some." Traxis tried to keep his voice light, but didn't do such a great job.

But Ares, in his way, took it all in stride and activated the sled, now weighed down with their findings. It took both of them to maneuver the sled through the mountains of junk, and it was not until they'd nearly reached the entrance to the yard that Traxis remembered the weird crystal-thing.

Keeping one hand on the sled's handle, he dug the other in his pocket. "I found this; is it anything you can use?"

The sled halted as Ares faced him, brown eyes flickering between the crystal-thing and Trax's face as his mouth hung open and his _lekku _twitched as they did when he got _really _excited. He was silent for a second, then, to Trax's surprise, let loose a short, delighted burst of laughter and made to embrace Traxis, though he held himself in check.

"So...you know what the kriff it is?" Traxis asked. "I just thought it looked interesting."

"Interesting, indeed." Ares grinned, white teeth flashing amid whatever unpleasantness the skrats had sprayed all over his face. "Interesting to the tune of a few thousand creds."

"A few thousand..." Traxis turned the crystal so it winked in the artificial lights, set high above their heads. "What the _shab _is this fekking thing?"

"A vannan crystal," Ares said as Trax handed it over for him to examine. He pulled back his coat to rub the worst of the dirt off and onto his relatively clean shirt. "I've never seen one outside of a few, specialized dealers in, ah, less-than-legal auctions. A single one went for four thousand, and it was quite a bidding war. "

Traxis leaned against the grav sled's handle. "What can it do on your ship?"

"Nothing." Ares shot him a wry look as he handed the crystal back. "The _Raven's _sensors aren't compatible with most crystalline tech. It's the sort of thing you'd find on a yacht or a pleasure-barge."

He made to push the sled again, but Trax remained where he stood, frowning at the crystal.

"Traxis?"

"Why'd you give it back to me?"

Ares tilted his head in confusion. "It belongs to you, Trax." His lips quirked into his crooked smile. "Have you never heard of 'finders, keepers?'"

"What the fek am I going to do with this hunk of junk? Here." He shoved the crystal back in Ares' grime-coated hands.

"Are you quite certain?"

"Yes, I'm kriffing certain." Trax rolled his eyes. "Sell it and buy the _Raven_ some fancy new allowable damp-things."

Ares glanced at the crystal, but his gaze was drawn back to Traxis. "I hardly know what to say."

It was Trax's turn to grin. "Maybe you can thank me good and hard when we get cleaned up."

"There will be no 'maybe' about it, Traxis."

Kriff, Ares' lilting accent had deepened, the edges of it rough with desire even as his eyes were wide and his smile was filled with promise. Traxis turned for the sled again, more eager than ever to get back to the ship.

Only to be jolted by a resounding _smack_ that left a blackish-brown handprint across his ass. Had anyone else done so, Trax would have erupted into a rage. But he only chuckled and cast a look back at his Twi'lek companion, who still grinned like the damn, gorgeous _di'kut _he was.

"That a preview?" Trax asked. Fek, he _loved _it when Ares got rough.

Ares laughed and came beside him, tucking the crystal in his jacket-pocket. "Just so. I could not help myself."

Traxis smiled as they began to push the sled. "Lucky for me."

"No, my friend," Ares said, quietly. "I'm the lucky one."


	4. Chapter 4

This installment is also dedicated to **impoeia, **especially since she gave me the idea for the subject matter. Enjoy! :)

* * *

4.

Seated on the bed, Ares fastened the final buttons on his shirt as Traxis emerged from the 'fresher. The scarred soldier always took his breath away, more so when Trax was naked as the day he was vatted, wearing only a lazy, satisfied grin.

"Everything is well?" Ares asked.

Traxis' eyes gleamed and he came to stand before Ares, hands resting on his muscular hips. "Everything is kriffing perfect."

_Indeed, it is. _The bed shifted as Trax settled down beside him, and Ares stopped getting dressed in favor of running his hand through the clone's damp hair. It was generally the only part of Trax that was soft; the rest of him was all hard lines and muscle, but his hair was silky smooth and delicious against Ares' palm. With a sigh, Trax shut his eyes and allowed his features to relax beneath Ares' touch.

This, too, was a rare sight, and Ares savored every part of it.

They lay together for a few minutes before a gurgling sort of snarl broke the silence of the cabin.

"Fekking hell," Trax muttered, scowling even in repose.

Ares chuckled as he sat up. "Yes, it's past dinner time. We lost track of the hours, somehow."

One light-brown eye cracked open. "Worth it."

"I thought we could go out. Would that be alright?" They were still near the Kuat Salvage Yard, but there was an orbital station nearby that catered to travelers.

Traxis opened both eyes and regarded Ares. "Sure. But..." He frowned and rolled over, giving Ares quite a pleasant view of his backside. "Where are my spare fatigues? The ones I had on before are farkled."

"As I recall, you ripped them in the process of getting undressed, but said it didn't matter, because you'd never need them again."

"Oh, yeah." Traxis rolled on his back again and grinned at the memory. "Well, I have my kit."

Parading around a grubby, Outer-Rim tapcaf in gleaming white plastoid would likely draw much unwanted attention. Ares leaned down and skimmed his lips over Trax's jawline. "Or you could wear, ah, something else."

Traxis shivered. "I don't have anything else." He brushed the back of his hand against _tchun,_ Ares' left _lek, _and dropped the pitch of his voice. "Guess that means we're eating in. I know what I want."

Kriff; he'd already had Trax several ways, but it was never enough. Heat rushed through Ares' body, coalescing in his _lekku _as well as much farther south, but he held his desire in check. For now, at any rate. "I might have something you could borrow."

Before Traxis could object – or further corrode his resolve – Ares rose and hit a panel on the wall, which opened into his makeshift closet. He withdrew one of several duraplast bars that held his clothes, and began to rifle through the shirts at the back of the row.

"My sister sent me these," he said as he pulled the shirts free. "Someone else gave them to her husband, but they were too small for him and, as it happened, too large for me."

By now, Trax sat cross-legged on the bed, watching Ares with interest, though when he caught sight of the shirts, he frowned. "I've never worn civvie clothes."

"Give them a try." Ares tossed the shirts on the bed and began to search for a suitable pair of trousers. "Your boots should work. I don't have any spare, ah, undergarments, though."

"I can go without." There was a smirk in Trax's voice as the clone shrugged into the cotton shirt. "It's not like we wear skivvies beneath our body-gloves."

"I remember," Ares replied, chuckling. He found the pants and pulled them free, eying them against Trax's frame before setting them down on the bed and stepping to the 'fresher.

When he emerged, when he caught sight of his scarred soldier, his breath caught. The shirt was plain cotton, and while it had probably been too tight around Elpenor's chest and shoulders, it fit Traxis like it was made for him. It highlighted his torso and arms without clinging, and the deep indigo color made his caramel-colored skin seem to glow. The pants were also plain, a deep-brown, loose enough to allow Trax to move freely while providing a hint of his muscular frame beneath.

Coupled with Trax's scars and raven-dark hair, the effect was devastating.

Oblivious, Trax tucked the hem into the tops of his boots. "How effing silly do I look? I feel ridiculous."

"You look..." Ares' mouth went dry as Trax stood up and rested his hands on his hips.

The scarred clone glanced down at his body, still frowning. "They fit okay, I guess, but it's just...weird to not wear fatigues or my kit." He looked back at Ares, brow furrowed with uncertainty when he caught the Twi'lek's expression. "It's bad, isn't it? _Shab_. Never had to worry about this _osik _before..."

"Trax." The desire Ares had managed to keep at bay flooded back, more so when he smoothed his hands down Trax's shoulders and rested them at the clone's hips."You look," he said carefully, holding Trax's gaze, "good enough to eat."

"Yeah?"

Heat flushed through both _lekku _at the sight of that smile. Ares nodded. "Frankly, it's all I can do not to rip off those clothes, though I realize that defeats the purpose."

All uncertainty fled Trax's face, replaced with a wicked grin. He pressed his body – all of it – against Ares' and tilted his head up to skim his teeth over Ares' left _lek. _"Well, we can't have that."

Kriff, he knew just how to touch the _lek. _Trax knew exactly what pushed Ares' buttons and sent him into hyperspace, and he shuddered beneath his soldier's supple mouth. "No, I suppose not," Ares managed, breathlessly.

Trax's chuckle against his skin was deep. "It's settled, then," he murmured. "We're eating in."


	5. Chapter 5

FYI, this chapter should be classified as Hurt/Comfort, and gets a little dark. It might possibly contain triggers for sexual abuse. There's also an F-bomb. (The M rating holds, however.)

On those ominous notes, happy Valentine's Day! ;)

* * *

5.

Ares stood aside while the fully armored clone trooper stalked into his ship. "Will this take long? I have a delivery to make."

"I'm sure you kriffing do," the clone said as he stood within the _Raven's _mid-deck cargo bay. "But I'm supposed to check for contraband. You can't leave until I clear you. So stand aside." This was said as he paced to a lonely crate that had been set out for this purpose, ripped off the lid, and began to rifle through the contents.

"Then please hurry," Ares replied, biting back a smile even as he admired the way the clone filled out his armor. It was always a rather enticing sight, though he also very much liked the idea of peeling off said armor and tossing it aside to reveal the man beneath.

In response, the blank T-visor turned his way. "I'll take my sweet fekking time," the trooper growled. "I have to do a _thorough_ search."

Sweet stars, even modified by the helmet's mic, Traxis' voice made Ares want to do all manner of ridiculous things, and he half-debated ending the game now. But it would not do to break character quite yet, so he merely raised his hands in a gesture meant to placate the armored man.

"As you say, my friend," Ares replied calmly.

"Damn kriffing right," Traxis muttered before turning back to the crate. He shuffled the crumpled flimsi around a few moments before making a noise of triumph. "I knew it," he said, withdrawing one of the sheets. "Spice. High-grade, too, from the look of it."

It was an old grocery-list, scrawled on the back of some flyer Ares had picked up forever ago. But Ares managed to look appropriately shocked as Traxis brandished the prop. "That's not mine," he said as Trax approached. "I've never seen that before. I'm an honest businessman."

Naked, they were about the same height, but the armor added a few inches to Trax's frame, on all sides, and now he seemed to tower over Ares. More so, perhaps, when he pitched his voice in that dark, husky growl. "'Honest businessman,' my _shebs. _There's enough effing spice there to buy a Star Destroyer."

Traxis stepped closer, invading Ares' space and forcing him to take a few paces backward. Not until Ares' heel hit the _Raven's_ bulkhead did he feel a flicker of unease, though he tried to ignore it.

"I could have you locked up for a decade," Trax added, his helmet close to Ares' face. "How would you like that?"

He was so close. Ares' vision was filled with white plastoid but he didn't really see any of it, as a few choice memories swam to the surface of his mind. The unease picked up strength, and he was suddenly all-too-aware of how very vulnerable he was. Both _lekku _itched at their bases, and he swallowed tightly.

Trax was fully immersed in the game and did not seem to notice his companion's discomfort. "Well?" he asked, pressing his armored body close.

_Calm down, _Ares chided himself. There was no danger here. He'd not worn a slave collar in _years,_ and he'd long since put that life behind him. He was safe. This game was one they'd discussed at length, and he had no wish to spoil it for Traxis.

So he managed to form a reply. "Are you going to turn me in?"

"It's my kriffing job to turn in spice-runners like you."

Ares took a deep breath and hoped his voice revealed none of his agitation. "Surely, there must be something I can do to, ah, change your mind."

Traxis did not reply immediately, and Ares got the impression he was being studied. "Are you okay?" he asked at last, all pretense of hostility vanished. "Ares?"

_Kriff. _Whatever was between them was still a bit new, and although Trax knew about Ares' checkered past, Ares was reluctant to reveal too many gory details, just yet. So he flashed his teeth in a wide smile, not without sharpness.

"My only concern is not going to jail," he murmured, adding a meaningful shift of his hips. "I will do _anything _to avoid such a dreadful fate."

Packing it on a little thick, but that was the nature of these games. Surely, this would direct Trax's focus where it needed to be and not on any of Ares' silly hang-ups.

Indeed, the T-visor tilted up and down as Traxis looked him over, then the clone lifted one hand to skim down the center of Ares' chest. "There's something you can do, all right." He rested his gloved fingers on the waistband of Ares' pants and pulled the Twi'lek closer. "I'll be much more inclined to keep quiet if you cooperate."

"That can be arranged."

"Good." Trax's voice held an edge and he did not stand back as Ares began to fumble with his belt. The pants came off easily enough, though Ares could not stop his hands from trembling as he pulled them down. When he stood up, the blank visor was tilted slightly down. "Very nice," Trax said as he skimmed a fingertip along Ares' sensitive skin. "Turn around and put your hands on the bulkhead."

A dull roar echoed in Ares' head but he ignored it – and his suddenly-pounding heart – and did as he was told. Facing away from Traxis, his anxiety jumped a few notches and his palms began to sweat. All at once, he was not on his beloved ship, with his beautiful clone lover, but back in one of the many dimly-lit rooms he'd tried so hard to forget, while a stranger prepared to take him by force.

_Not the same, _he told himself, squeezing his eyes shut. _That was a long time ago. You're safe. _

Trax brushed a fingertip along Ares' ass and leaned close, his helmet cold against Ares' right _lek. _"Nice ass, too. I think I know how you can convince me to keep quiet."

Throat tight, all Ares could do was nod and brace himself. But all that happened was the _thunk _of plastoid hitting the ground, followed by Trax's voice against his ear. "What the _shab _is going on?"

"Nothing," Ares managed, shaking his head. "I'm fine. Let's just go."

But strong hands turned him around by his shoulders, though he did not lift his gaze. "Something's effing wrong, and I'm not letting you move until you tell me what the fek it is."

Ares opened his mouth but the words wouldn't come. He was a fool to think that life was truly behind him. Unlike his stalwart soldier, he bore no physical scars, but would carry those unseen marks the rest of his life. Because he was weak and foolish. Because he deserved nothing better.

Heat flushed through both _lekku _and he looked at Trax's boots, stark white against the _Raven's_ floor. "It's nothing," he said again.

Trax's grip faltered for a moment but he was true to his word. Still, there was no gruffness in his voice when he spoke again. "Ares...I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I'm sorry. Okay?"

The worry in the other male's voice broke through Ares' shame and made him look up; in Trax's light-brown eyes, there was only concern. That spurred Ares into speech. "It's not you," he said after a beat. "You've done nothing wrong, Trax."

Trax frowned. "You're shaking."

Ares glanced at his hands; indeed, they were trembling, and beads of sweat ran rivulets down the center of his back. Both _lekku _itched, base to tip, and the craving for a cigarra struck him with the force of a blow.

So it was an effort to speak calmly. "So I am."

"Kriffing hell." Traxis made a noise of frustration. "What's going on?"

"Noth–"

"No." The hands at Ares' shoulders tightened again as Traxis leaned closer, forcing their eyes to meet. "You look like a shiny who's seen his first battle," Trax muttered, searching his gaze. "You look like you're about to puke and pass out. You're terrified. Don't fekking tell me that's _nothing. _Tell me what's going on in that _shabla _head of yours. I'm not a karking mind-reader."

Strangely, the excessive swearing made Ares smile, as did the roughness of Trax's voice. The press of Trax's hands to his shoulders, though keeping him in place, were comforting. He was not being held captive; he was simply being _held. _With these realizations came calm, and with calm came speech.

"I'm sorry, Trax," he said quietly. "I can't...do this."

Trax's entire body stilled and his words emerged slowly and deliberately. "Do what?"

Ares indicated the "spice," which had fallen to the floor beside Trax's helmet. "This game you created. I thought it would be fun, but it's..." He signed and looked away, blinking against the images that burned behind his eyes. "It's dredging up some rather, ah, unpleasant memories."

"I'm sorry," Trax said again, shaking his head. "I didn't know–"

"Nor did I."

The scarred soldier seemed to debate something, then dropped his hands to rest on Ares' waist. "Do you want me to leave?"

Ares blinked. "What? No." He brushed his thumb against Trax's cheek and shook his head. "That's the very _last _thing I want. But," his throat tightened, "if you would like to leave, I understand. Tonight was supposed to be fun."

Traxis swore beneath his breath and, to Ares' distress, glanced around the cargo bay as if he were searching for the nearest exit, and Ares braced himself for the inevitable. It would be for the best, he decided. If he couldn't give Trax what he wanted, it would be better if Trax found someone who could.

But to his surprise, when Trax met his gaze again, there was only warmth in his eyes. "Pull your pants up and come on."

"What?"

A strong grip took his hand, and a few moments later Trax led them through the ship, up to the main cabin where they'd already shared a fair number of pleasant nights, days, and everything in between. The cabin's familiarity, coupled with the more recent and immeasurably more pleasant memories, made calm a little easier to come by.

Ares stood aside while Traxis shucked his armor so that he was clad only the black body-glove that he wore beneath his kit, and faced him. "Ares," he said quietly.

Just his name, nothing more. The sound held no sharp edges, no ire or bitterness, only a question. They'd never discussed Ares' past at length; it was the sort of topic Ares generally tried to avoid, like his family or the price of fuel. But like those things, it permeated every waking moment.

He looked at his boots. "When I was a slave, I was used as my owners saw fit. I was young, fresh, you understand." His jaw tightened as if he'd eaten something sour. "A husband and wife purchased me, initially. My first time was with both of them. He wasn't...careful, or gentle, and was fond of taking me by force. His wife liked to watch, or take me at the same time.

"Eventually I grew older and lost whatever appeal I'd had, so they sold me to a businessman who liked to...play games. Who also was fond of taking what he wanted, whenever and however he wanted. He, too, was fond of sharing. He had a great many friends who shared his tastes."

Kriff, he was shaking again. To steady himself, he reached up to stroke his left _lek, _but Trax beat him to it. Trax gently skimmed the back of his fingers along _tchun_, pale brown eyes fixed on Ares' face. There was no censure in his gaze, so Ares took a steadying breath and continued.

"It was that way, often. I was never given an option to refuse and by the time I grew old enough to consider such a thing, I was too...cowed. I was weak, and I let them do what they wanted. It was easier," he shook his head once, "to go along with it all than to try and fight back. Slaves who fought back were given scars, or taken from their cots in the dead of night and never seen again. And I was afraid."

The stroking continued, though this time it was underwritten by Trax's baritone. "Is that why you never want to...?"

Ares nodded. "I need the control, I think. The act _itself_ is not unpleasant, but the thought of being...taken makes me ill, and I cannot disassociate the two." He sighed again. "I'm sorry. I know you were looking forward to tonight. I just didn't think..."

He trailed off and hugged his arms to his stomach, praying the bulkhead would magically open and consume him just so he wouldn't have to hear the disappointment in Trax's voice.

"Ares." A warm hand settled on his cheek; a rough, calloused thumb brushed across his lips; the gentle touch against his _lek _never stopped. "Fek all of that," Trax murmured. "All I give a kriff about is being here, with you. Everything else is just icing on the _uj_ cake."

Ares frowned. "The what?"

Trax laughed quietly and, to Ares' shock, kissed his cheek. "_You're _what I want, you _di'kut. _Any way I can get you. Even if all you wanted to do was smoke those disgusting death-sticks of yours...I'd gladly sit around and watch."

This made Ares chuckle and he managed to meet Trax's eyes again. The affection he found there warmed him from the inside-out. "You mean that."

"I mean every kriffing thing I say," Trax replied archly. "And if you haven't figured that out by now, then you really are a _di'kut."_

"But you," Ares cast a pointed look at Trax's groin, "wanted to take _me_, for once. You made that quite clear."

Trax shrugged. "I'm not picky. I'm perfectly happy to let you fuck me instead of the other way around."

"But you even invented the, ah, _completely_ plausible scenario–"

"It _is _plausible," Trax broke in, rolling his eyes.

"Only in the world of bad pornography."

Traxis chuckled and ran his thumb along Ares' mouth. "Hey, that's all I had for a long effing time. Don't mock it."

"I would never dream of mocking your no doubt illustrious pornography collection," Ares replied with a smile of his own.

"Fek you." But Trax was grinning. After a moment, though, his expression turned more serious and he met Ares' eyes. Anger flashed, though it faded almost at once as he gave Ares a wicked smile. "Well, one of us should get his ass pounded, at least. What do you say? Are you up for it?"

He emphasized _up _with a deliberate nudge of his own groin to Ares', whose body responded immediately. When Trax sealed the gap between them with a bruising kiss, the unhappy memories retreated to their proper place at the back of Ares' mind, and he gladly lost himself within his scarred soldier.


	6. Chapter 6

6.

The soft glow from the lock-panel was the only light in the cabin, and the only sound was Ares' steady breathing from his place curled into Traxis' side. As was his custom, he'd fallen asleep almost the moment they'd finished.

Traxis didn't mind being the only one awake.

Ares was pressed close, as if soaking up Traxis' body heat, though Trax had already pulled the blanket over the two of them. Ares' left _lek _curved near his hand, and he absently stroked the smooth skin, savoring both the feel of the Twi'lek beneath his palm and the way Ares murmured wordlessly and shifted closer. In sleep, his face was slack and he snored intermittently. Traxis didn't mind that, either.

He stared into the darkness and tried to hold onto the languid, post-orgasm lull that should have sent _him _into a stupor, too, but all he found was a seething anger. Ares' halting words from before had invaded the nooks and crannies of his consciousness, and it'd taken every ounce of self-control not to let loose his fury into the nearest bulkhead.

Even now, a white haze settled over his vision and his hands tightened. If he _ever _came across the miserable, _shabla _excuses for life-forms who'd treated Ares that way...

"Trax..."

It was barely a murmur, but it was enough to disintegrate the cold wash of fury and send him, blinking, back into warm reality. _Tchun, _Ares' left _lek, _twitched beneath his hand; his grip was too tight. _Relax, _he told himself, and released a deep breath into the shadows. Immediately, Ares mumbled something incoherent and shifted closer, wrapping one arm around Traxis' chest and nuzzling his collarbone.

There was peace here, but Traxis could not help but consider the new reality he faced. He'd killed before. Lots. For not very much more than a few orders given in haste. He was a soldier, after all, no matter the state of the galaxy. He'd also taken lives in self defense and to protect the ones he considered his family.

Did that mean, then, that he considered Ares...family? Must be, if he was willing – no, _eager_ – to kill those who'd done him harm.

"Trax...?"

"Yeah?"

But the Twi'lek didn't answer, only turned his face into Traxis' chest. Traxis smiled and leaned up, carefully, to kiss the coral-colored _lek _scant inches from his cheek. Ares shifted again and inhaled deeply.

_Yeah_, Traxis thought, _I would do a lot of stupid _osik_ for you. _

Happily.


End file.
